


Fake Date

by Iverna



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: Leia has to go undercover to a gala, and her date is not who she expects. And she is not disappointed. It’s not like there’s anyone else she’d rather go with. (pre-Hoth.)





	Fake Date

It was another contact mission, the same kind that Leia had done a dozen times.

“You’ll be attending the governor’s gala,” General Rieekan explained, “as a dignitary from Kravesh. Nothing extravagant, we just need some idea of the local attitudes towards the Empire… and what it might take to tip them, or if anyone is already willing to help.”

“So more of a scouting mission,” Leia said, nodding. Her background in the Imperial Senate made her uniquely suited to those, giving her a sixth sense when it came to figuring out people’s intentions and attitudes.

Nevertheless, part of her was already dreading it. Because she wasn’t alone in the briefing room. Aside from Rieekan’s aide, who stood at ease beside the general, there was another man in the room sitting beside her, leaning back on his chair as if the whole meeting bored him.

Han Solo.

He’d be going with her. Which meant that Leia was facing at least one entire evening of pretending to be his date. And while she was good at deciphering local customs and attitudes, it was always that much harder in Han’s company. He was distracting.

And that was entirely her problem, because she couldn’t seem to stop _noticing_ him, but she had yet to find a solution.

But the words she was dreading didn’t come.

“Exactly,” Rieekan said. And then he indicated the man beside him, and went on, “Colonel Donnachu will be acting as your date.”

“What?” Leia asked before she could stop herself. Beside her, Han sat up straighter, his air of casual indifference gone.

“Nothing untoward, Princess, I assure you,” Donnachu said. He had a deep, pleasant voice and a relaxed, reassuring air. His dark eyes held a smile. He was about Han’s age, Leia reckoned, and shorter, but stockier.

“The colonel spent several months on Kravesh,” Rieekan went on. “He’ll be able to assist you.”

“Of course,” Leia said, already cursing herself for her lapse. That had been kind of rude. She smiled at the colonel. “That sounds perfect.”

“So what am I doing?” Han demanded. “I don’t need a briefing just to tell me to fly a ship.”

Rieekan gave him one of those half-admonishing, half-understanding looks he did so well. “You’re the backup,” he said. “You’ll be going in solo—”

“Hah,” Han said, with a humourless twist of his mouth.

“ _Alone_ ,” Rieekan clarified, “to keep an eye out for trouble, and in case of a quick getaway. As the pilot, you’ll be waiting with the others until the end of the evening. Use that time to talk to people, get an idea of the lay of the land, much like Her Highness will be doing inside. And if you spot any indication that someone is calling for back-up, or contacting law enforcement…”

“Get Leia out of there,” Han said. He didn’t look happy. “Right.”

 

*  *  *

 

Leia wasn’t sure whether she was relieved by the new arrangements. Donnachu—first name Clivv, as he told her—turned out to be good company, as well as a useful asset. With him at her side, Leia knew that no one would doubt her cover story.

As usual, Han didn’t agree with her.

“Doesn’t like me much, does he,” Donnachu commented as Han all but stormed through the hold, hydrospanner in hand, with not so much as a glance at either of them.

“Don’t take it personally,” Leia advised him. “Han doesn’t like anyone.”

Donnachu smiled, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s quite true.”

“He doesn’t like strangers on his ship,” she clarified, trying to determine whether the colonel was offended or not. His relaxed attitude made it hard to tell.

“Ah, well,” he said, shrugging, the smile never wavering. “As long as he doesn’t kick me out.”

He didn’t seem to be taking it personally, nor holding a grudge. Leia, however, never had much patience for Han’s moods. By the second day, she’d had enough.

“Han,” she said, when she’d cornered him in the galley. “Are you going to sulk for the entire trip? Because if you are—”

“Who’s sulking?” he said, looking offended. “I don’t sulk.”

“You haven’t said more than two words to anyone, you glare at anyone who tries to talk to you, and you’re working on the starboard repulsor bank even though I know it just got an overhaul,” she listed off. “You are sulking.”

He stared at her. “How do you even know—look, your Worship, just ‘cause I don’t want to sit around having afternoon tea with you and the colonel—”

“You’re being _rude_ ,” she said, lowering her voice a little more so that it came out as more of a hiss. “Clivv hasn’t done anything, and don’t try to tell me he’s a bad passenger. You could at least say hello.”

“I did say hello.”

“You know what I mean.”

Han leaned back against the counter. “You’re the one in charge of diplomacy, princess, not me. _You_ play nice with him.”

“It’s not about diplomacy, it’s about—” Leia broke off, frustrated. He was impossible. Why was he so damn impossible? She was usually the one he responded best to, when compared to Rieekan or one of the other Alliance officers, but “best” didn’t mean “well” in this case. Han Solo was the singular greatest challenge for her diplomacy skills that she’d ever encountered.

She decided to try the Luke approach: wide-eyed honesty. “Look,” she said. “This mission is already stressful, okay? Clivv’s an officer, not a spy or a diplomat, he’s being thrown in the deep end here. And I’m—” She broke off again. Honesty was well and good, but the ability to describe her tangled thoughts and emotions was quite another. “Stressed. It’s going to be difficult, and you’re making it worse.”

He bristled. “Hey, it’s not _my_ fault that—”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault,” she said wearily.

They stood there for a moment, Leia looking at Han, Han looking across at the bulkhead.

“He plays sabacc,” she offered after a moment. “Not badly, actually. I’m getting kind of sick of losing.”

Han’s mouth quirked. He finally looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you were supposed to let princesses win. Bad manners to beat ‘em.”

“ _You_ don’t let me win.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m fringe scum. I don’t have manners.”

She didn’t bother arguing. She knew it wasn’t true; she’d seen him on enough missions to know that he knew how to behave if he had to. He even knew several Alderaanian court gestures, though she had no idea where he’d picked those up. He’d been an officer in the Imperial Navy, and all that training had left some mark on him, despite the fact that he seemed determined to prove otherwise.

But she knew better than to try and point that out. She just shrugged, and tried a smile. “So don’t let him win either.”

Han scoffed. “Not likely.”

But his bad mood had evaporated. At the very least, he made an effort to talk to Donnachu, and they did end up playing sabacc. The game banter seemed to help defuse some of the lingering tension, and Donnachu was a gracious loser.

Chewie came up beside Leia as she sat at one of the workstations with a datapad, crooning a soft comment. She still didn’t understand Shyriiwook the way Han did, but she got the gist as Chewie gestured over at Han.

_Nice work._

She grinned at him. At least Chewie understood what it was like to deal with Han.

 

*  *  *

 

The gala itself was torture. Leia mingled and talked and smiled, and Donnachu was the perfect partner, gracious and patient. She would never have guessed that he was new to it. He held back when he needed to, he asked the right questions, made the right leading comments.

And he didn’t once take her hand, or tug her to his side, or persuade her to dance. He made no disparaging remarks, or flirtatious comments. He didn’t complain about the food, or his clothes, and he didn’t appraise his surroundings or tell her what the décor would fetch on the black market.

He did none of the things that Han would have done. And Leia didn’t wish he would. She just kept having to catch herself, swallow down a sarcastic comment, keep her features schooled rather than venting her feelings with a quick, exasperated glance.

One of the local aristocrats kept humble-bragging about the size of his new pleasure yacht, and Leia was on the brink of exchanging a wordless look of ridicule with Han before she remembered that she couldn’t.

She was on edge all evening, even as she talked and laughed and teased out, bit by bit, an impression of what the local bigshots responded to. Subtle, almost humble, flattery. Appeal to comfort, rather than wealth or conscience. Her mental list grew, along with her unease.

By the time it was over, she was more than ready to leave. She was already compiling the report in her head, along with a commendation for Donnachu, when they walked through the magnificent front doors and out to where their speeder was waiting.

Han was already waiting, looking uncomfortable in his driver’s uniform. They left without a word; only once they had swept each other for bugs, using the scanner Han had brought, did Leia speak.

“We’re good to go,” she said. “You can go straight to the spaceport. No need to hang around.”

Han grinned; she could see it even from where she sat behind him. “Music to my ears, sweetheart. How’d it go, anyway?”

“Good,” Leia assured him, then turned to Donnachu. “Nice work, Colonel.”

He smiled, but inclined his head. “I was just following your lead, your Highness.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s good work.”

Han might have scoffed. It was hard to tell over the wind.

They arrived at the spaceport a few minutes later. Leia was still on edge, though not because of any gut feeling. She felt like she’d been bottling everything up for hours, and it was all still there, waiting to burst out.

“What’s up with you?” Han asked, as she tapped her foot while he returned the rented speeder. “You in that much of a hurry?”

She glared at him. “Yes.”

“Something happen?” he asked casually, keying the code into the terminal before signing off and joining her. They fell into step, heading over to the docking bay where the _Falcon_ waited.

“Just the usual,” Leia said. “Talking. Pretending they’re all the most interesting people on the planet. There was one guy who kept bragging about his new yacht.”

Han’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

Leia nodded, and made a face. “A Drenvaali.”

Han guffawed, and she burst out laughing, too, feeling some of the tension inside her drain away. “No.”

“Would not shut up about it,” Leia confirmed. “And another guy tried to impress his date with a bow he said was used at the Alderaanian court.”

Han winced dramatically. “I’m guessing _that_ was spot-on.”

“Think every bad holodrama stereotype,” Leia said wryly.

He laughed again, glancing back at her as they walked through the entrance of the docking bay. As they approached the _Falcon_ , he slung an arm around her shoulders.

And Leia finally felt at ease.


End file.
